


A Mouse Who Wears French Perfume

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: My prompts for the Second Flashfic Collection were :Afternoon, quaint, Plot point : Jack Robinson has trouble grasping what is happening





	A Mouse Who Wears French Perfume

Senior Constable Hugh Collins hoped he was a good and contentious policeman and, if he worked and studied hard, someday hoped to become a good detective, like his boss, the Senior Detective Inspector. So it was to that purpose he had determined that to achieve this goal he needed to do his best to pay attention to details.

He had noticed his boss was able to study people, read their postures, their expressions and just by what he observed was able to make the villains cower and the innocent smile gratefully, often without them having to say a word. So as Hugh sat at the front counter of the City South police station one fine afternoon, he was studiously attentive to the persons wandering in and out and keeping his eyes and ears open. He was convinced that to become a good detective, he needed to hone his skills.

As he was contemplating this, there came the sound of raised voices behind him and he turned around in time to catch the sight of a fellow constable wrestling with a very inebriated man in the back hall. Hugh smiled at the newly minted recruit who was trying to reason with a man who really was in no condition to be logical and chuckled a little at the memory of when he had been that green.

Unfortunately as Hugh was enjoying the predicament of his fellow office, he failed to notice the roar of the engine as a powerful car came to a halt outside the front doors, or the determined steps of feminine heels or the flurry of feathers and furs until a beautiful, impeccably dressed woman was standing behind him.

“Hello Hugh!”

The constable jumped and spun at the same time, his mouth hanging open and as he gaped, a blush crept up his neck and painted his cheeks a lovely shade of red.

“Miss... Miss Fisher, I... was just... Ah... it is nice to see you.” In fact Hugh was not really sure if it was nice to see her at this moment. Because at this moment his usual buffer between him and the lady detective was absent.

The Honourable Phryne Fisher smiled brightly at Hugh and tilted her head beguilingly at him. This unnerved him further, when she smiled at him like that it usually meant that the lady detective wanted something. And without the Inspector there to direct him there was a good chance he was going to get this wrong.

“I need to speak to the Inspector,” she began to tug off her grey leather gloves that matched the grey swirl in her ivory coloured cloche and the grey patterned blouse she wore under her long, elegant ivory cloth coat.

Hugh bravely stood his ground and looked straight at her. If he was going to be a good detective he was going to have to be firm.

“The Inspector is not here, he is in court today.” Hugh brought himself to his full height, back ramrod straight.

Phryne flipped her gloves into her left hand and turned towards the Inspector's office, waving away this slight problem with her other.

“Oh, no matter. I'll just wait for him.” She was half way to the door with the frosted window containing the lettering Detective Inspector J. Robinson when Hugh realized his prey was escaping and scooted around the front desk to try and head her off.

“Ah... but ... but... I am not sure when he'll be back. If you'd like to leave a message ....”

“I need to talk to him right away. I don't mind waiting,” she turned with her hand on the doorknob. Hugh must have looked a little alarmed because she then added, “Don't worry Hugh. I promise I won't touch anything. “

With that Phryne turned and swung the door open, careful not to let the constable see that she had fingers crossed on her left hand.

She breezed into the office and closed the door. Hugh stood there staring for a moment. What to do ... what to do. What if his boss gets mad he let her into his office when not here. But then again, she was the boss's partner so ..... Hugh gave up and fervently hoped she got bored and left before the boss got back.

*******

Phryne breezed into office and proceeded to plunk herself down in the Inspector's chair as she threw her hat on the desk.

_The Inner Sanctum !_ , she thought gleefully. She could get into so much trouble in here. Now what can I get into. She thought for a moment, then it came to her.

“His secret stash!”, she said aloud. Phryne found it so quaint Jack secreted some food in his office. But surely would have moved the battered biscuit tin after Hugh found it a few weeks ago. Well, this would be fun if the Inspector were to find it empty of biscuits again.”  
Half an hour later, Phryne blew out a breath and put her feet up on the desk. Her search had been in vain. She had looked everywhere, including the large safe behind the desk, even though Jack was well aware of her safe-cracking skills.  
Her eyes fell on his bookshelf, the last place left that she hadn't scoured. She jumped up and methodically started to reach behind his books to find the allusive tin he kept his biscuits in.

Suddenly her fingers hit something metal and as she was about to crow in triumph there came a loud snap, followed by a hard pinch to the tips of her middle and index finger and she yelped. Phryne drew her hand back quickly and at the end of it dangled a sprung mouse trap.

“Not funny Jack,” she said through gritted teeth as she extracted her throbbing fingers and tossed the offending article to the floor. With a huff she grabbed her hat and bag, strode out the door and past the front desk muttering something about payback.

 

An hour later the Detective Inspector sauntered through his office door, hung up his hat and coat and stopped by his chair. Something was off, but as he looked around the room it did not come to him immediately. He sat down and yelled to Collins for some tea. It had been a long day and he had not been able to take a lunch break. He then remembered his secret stash, got up and went around the desk to his bookcase where he proceeded to pull a large tome from it titled 'The Collected Works of Shakespeare”. He flipped the cover open and reached inside the hollow therein to extract a biscuit, then shut the book and replaced it. He hummed in pleasure as the buttery oatmeal flavour hit the back of his tongue and looked down fondly at the tell tale contraption lying on the floor.


End file.
